


It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Pythmas

by windychimes



Category: Bastion
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windychimes/pseuds/windychimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kid ropes everyone into celebrating Pythmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Pythmas

**Author's Note:**

> 'Christmas' will forever be 'Pythmas' in the Bastion world to me and no one will ever change my mind on that.

He starts preparing a month early. It’s barely winter when he starts decorating the trees; the air has only just begun to grow chilly and already the boughs are creaking and groaning under the weight of the shards and other shiny baubles hanging from them. He hums carols under his breath as he works and for the first time in a long time, he's smiling.

“What's he doing, anyway?” Zia asks Rucks as they watch him lug a ladder around the Bastion.

“Settin' up for Pythmas.” At her confused look, Rucks asks, “you never celebrated Pythmas before?” She shakes her head. “Guess that ain't so surprising, all things so considered.”

Zia shrugs, eyes downcast, and Rucks continues. “Folks celebrate Pyth’s month with food and gifts. Used to be you gave them gifts to the Gods and your loved ones for protection and success, but now it ain’t more than an excuse eat and wait for people to give you things.” He shrugs himself. “Seems the Kid's tryin’ ta keep a bit of the original spirit alive, though.”

“I don’t care for it,” Zulf says. “Pyth isn’t supposed to be so... so commercialized. It’s sacrilegious.”

Rucks clucks his tongue. “Caelondia doesn't work like the Terminals. You know that.”

Zulf says nothing to that, and they all go back to watching the Kid.

The Kid sets the ladder against the tallest tree of the Bastion. He climbs it, the wood groaning under his considerable weight. Zia wrings her hands, Rucks makes the sign of Mother in his palm, and Zulf smiles behind his sleeve.

The ladder wobbles. The Kid stands on his tiptoes to put a star on the top of the tree. No one breathes. The Kid leans up, up, up, and...

He gets the star on top. He breathes a sigh of relief. The ladder groans and tips back and the Kid goes crashing. “Kid!” Zia yells, and runs over to see if he’s okay.

Rucks sends Zulf a sidelong glance. “Y’know,” he drawls, “if you’re gonna laugh, there ain’t no sense in tryin’ to hide it.”

Zulf takes his sleeve away from his mouth and laughs until he can’t stand straight.

—

“We needa make Pythmas cookies.” The Kid slams his hands down on the counter. He pauses. “Well, you needa make Pythmas cookies.”

Zia blinks and puts her knife down on the cutting board. “Kid,” she starts, “I’m trying to make dinner.” She gestures to the food laid out in front of her, vegetables and herbs and hunks of meat from the strange animals the Kid brings back. “I’m kinda busy.”

“Afterwards, then,” he says, and then remembers to add, “please?”

“I don’t even know how to make Pythmas cookies,” Zia continues as she goes back to cutting the meat. She slices what looks like a toe off what might be a foot. “What makes them so special?”

“They’re regular cookies but they’re special ‘cause they're Pythmas shapes. Like stars and trees, and stuff like that. My mama had a cutter for it, but I bet you could do it without one.”

Zia pauses. She already has to cook, and she’s tired of having to cook and bake extra things for them all the time, but... She can't say no when he mentions his mama. She knows how much he misses her.

“Fine,” she concedes. “But I’m making dinner first. Are you going to help cook?”

“Thanks, Zia,” he says, beaming. When he looks happy like this... this is why she can never say no. He gives her a wave and walks away. “Naw, I got things to do. See ya.”

Zia sighs as she watches him leave. Is this pay back for all the times she ran off and made Zulf cook on his own?

—

“What do you think Zia wants for Pythmas?” The Kid asks as he digs through his box of mementos. “Not gonna give her somethin’ old, but maybe I could make something from one of these...”

Rucks scratches the back of his head. “A girl like her would like somethin’ practical. Jewelry ain’t much good to her. Maybe spruce up that spyglass of hers."

Rucks has never claimed he doesn’t have his own agenda.

“Maybe,” the Kid mumbles, only half listening. “Gotta be special. ‘Cause... ‘cause she’s special.”

His face grows red and Rucks chuckles. “Thinkin’ ‘bout giving her a ring, are you?”

“Don’t say weird things,” the Kid mutters. He rubs his face to get rid of the tingling in his cheeks. It doesn’t work.

“I'll stop once those ears of yours stop burning.”

The Kid swipes at Rucks, but makes no real effort to stop him. They fall into silence, and the Kid continues to look through the box. It’s only a moment later when the Kid pulls something out with a triumphant grin. It’s the crystal barrette from so long ago, a memento he hasn't looked at in a number of months.

“You think she would like this?” He fingers the shining edges. “I wouldn’t give it to her like this or nothin’, but she pays an awful lotta attention to her hair, so maybe if I made it into a, a comb or somethin’, she’d like it...”

Rucks puts his hand on the Kid's shoulder. “Miss Zia is real special to you, ain’t she?”

The Kid never talks about the crystal barrette, but when he first came to the Bastion, clutching the sooty hairclip and asking Rucks about a girl who never showed up, that told Rucks everything he needed to know.

The Kid shrugs and makes a noncommittal noise. “What do you want for Pythmas?” he asks, and Rucks lets him change the subject.

—

“Zulf! Zulf! Come outside, quickly!” Zulf groans and swats at whatever’s making noise at him. It’s too early in the morning for this. “Zulf, it’s raining! But it’s fluffy rain! Come look at it!”

“Get off me,” Zulf grumbles. The weight moves off him and Zulf sits up, rubbing his bleary eyes. Zia's face becomes visible once his eyes blink back into focus. How unsurprising that she would be the one to wake him.

Zia grabs him by the arm and yanks him up with a surprising strength. “Come on! Let me show you the fuzzy rain!”

Zia drags him out of his tent. The world around them is blanketed in white, the powder covering the ground and the trees and the tents and anything else in its way. “Isn’t it amazing?”

Zulf can't help but smile. “It’s snow, Zia. You've never seen it before?”

Zia shakes her head, eyes still wide in wonderment. “This is snow? I didn't know it was so pretty.”

“I suppose it doesn’t snow in Caelondia. The last time I saw snow was...”

Zulf’s face turns dark. “Never mind that. Dress warmly; I don’t want you to catch cold.”

Zia ignores him entirely and jumps into a snow drift with a laugh. The Kid and Rucks emerge from their own tents, woken up by Zia’s laughter and general loudness. The Kid and Zulf lock eyes, share something unsaid, and the Kid nods. Zulf looks up at the sky. Things are okay sometimes.

Then Zia hits him in the face with a snowball.

—

Zulf hums softly to himself as he works, knitting needles moving to and fro. Zia needs a new scarf, he’s decided; it’s cold and growing colder and the scarf she wears currently is old and fraying. This will be a much nicer scarf, too. Her current scarf doesn't have near enough blue and yellow. Or stripes.

He pauses a moment to consider the time she called him a fashion disaster. He shakes his head and goes back to work. Obviously she has no idea what she’s talking about.

The Kid pokes his shaggy white head into Zulf’s tent. “Zulf, what’re you makin’ Zia for Pythmas?”

Zulf stops knitting. It’d be nice if people considered if he was busy or not before bothering him. It’ll never happen, but it’d be nice. “I'm not making her anything for Pythmas. I don't celebrate Pythmas.”

The Kid comes in uninvited and sits down. “How come? I like Pythmas.”

“I know,” Zulf says, deadpan. The effect is lost on the Kid. “It makes a mockery of Pyth. I don’t want any part of it.”

“But it's Pythmas! It doesn't make a mockery of nothin’.”

“Celebrating Pyth isn’t supposed to be about presents. You don't buy things for each other. The Gods are supposed to be fear and respected, not turned into, into jokes. You make offerings to the Gods, not to each other.” Zulf sighs and shakes his head. He has a sinking feel that all of this is lost on the Kid. “I don’t like what Caelondia has done to the Gods.”

Zulf closes his eyes. He used to get so angry about these things, and at the Kid... when did it all change? He can barely get more than annoyed now.

He’s not sure if that’s better or worse.

The Kid frowns, quiet as he collects his thoughts. Zulf goes back to knitting; this could take a while.

“Well,” the Kid finally starts, “I like Pythmas 'cause everyone’s nice to each other. The kids at school... they weren't so mean. An’ my mama would knit me a new scarf, and I’d save up a little an’ get her somethin’ nice, and... things weren’t so bad, for a little. Everyone was happy. When you’re makin’ things for people and givin’ ‘em presents... things are okay.”

Zulf stops knitting once more. “I never thought about it like that,” he admits. “That... that sounds nice.” He manages a smile. “I don’t mind your version of Pythmas so much.”

Zulf nearly gags. When did he become so sappy? And with the Kid, no less?

The Kid beams. “M’glad,” he says, and leans forward to see what Zulf’s doing. “What’re you making?”

“I’m making Zia a scarf.” He pauses. He’s not sure if he actually wants to offer this, but... “Would you like one?”

The Kid pulls Zulf into a tight hug and doesn’t let up until Zulf pats his arm and complains that it’s starting to hurt. “I’m glad we’re friends again,” he says. He nuzzles the top of Zulf’s head and Zulf squawks. If Zulf was in a better position, he’d punch him.

The Kid lets go and hops up. “Got things to do. See ya ‘round.”

The Kid leaves as quickly as he came and Zulf shakes his head. What has his life become?

—

“I don’t know what to get anyone for Pythmas.” Zia flops down on Rucks’ bedroll after barging into his tent unannounced. “I already made the Kid cookies, but I want to do something more.”

Rucks doesn’t look up from his book. “You could give him a kiss. Both of the boys would like one of those, I’m sure.”

Zia throws a pillow at him. “Rucks! I’m being serious!”

“So am I.”

Zia rolls on her back and kicks her legs out. “That’s not helpful! I’m not going to do something like that. That’s, that’s…”

She waves her hands in the air. “This shouldn’t be so hard. It’s just a present. But I want them to be special.”

“Anything made from the heart is special, Miss Zia,” Rucks says as he turns the page. Zia makes a face, and he ignores it. “That’s the Pythmas spirit.”

Zia sighs, long and drawn out. “More like shitmas,” she mutters under her breath, and Rucks laughs so hard he nearly cries.

—

The Kid wakes everyone before dawn. “It’s Pythmas!” he tells them, running to their tents and dragging them out of bed.

Zulf yawns and rubs his eyes. “Kid,” he says, “the sun hasn’t even risen yet.”

“But it’s Pythmas!” he says, shaking Zulf by the shoulders. “Aren’t you excited?”

“No,” Zulf says, and goes back to bed.

The Kid looks to Rucks. “I’m too old for this,” Rucks grumbles, and he goes to bed, too.

It comes down to Zia. “Aren’t you excited about Pythmas?” His voice shakes. “Pythmas, Pythmas is really fun, and…”

It’s barely even dawn, and it’s cold out, and her hair is a mess and she’s still not entirely awake and…

And the Kid looks really sad.

“Merry Pythmas,” she whispers through a sleep scratchy voice. He breaks into a full grin and she can’t help but smile, too. “How do you want to celebrate?”

“Do you want to watch the sun rise?” The Kid takes her hand. It’s freezing out but his hand is so big and warm that for a moment, it isn’t cold at all. “Used to do it all the time when I was young. And, and I’d like to do it with you.”

Zia bites her lip and tries to hide her blushing cheeks. “I’d really like that.”

He leads her to the tallest tree in the Bastion, the one with the star on top. He sits and pulls her into his lap and wraps her blanket around the both of them. She’s still shivering even in his warmth, and the sky is still dark, and the sun won’t be up for hours, but…

The Kid puts his chin on her head. “Merry Pythmas,” he whispers into her hair.

“Merry Pythmas,” she whispers back, and everything is okay.

—

“Oh,” Zia says, “Zulf, you… shouldn’t have.”

Zulf gives everyone their scarves. The Kid immediately wraps it around his neck, infinitely thrilled; no one else has quite the same reaction.

“Got your colors,” Rucks grumbles, staring at it for a long moment before throwing it over his shoulders. “Could be worse, I s’pose.”

“I hope you know I spent a very long time on all of those,” Zulf says. “You should appreciate them.”

“Yeah,” Zia says, holding the offending garment away from her, “but you’re a fashion disaster.”

Zulf throws his hands in the air. “I’m going to my tent. I’m not going to deal with your ungratefulness.”

“Zulf, don’t be like this.” Zia runs after him when he storms off to his tent. “Don’t be mad! Come back here! Zulf!”

Rucks pats the Kid on the shoulder and laughs. “Now it’s a _real_ Pythmas.”


End file.
